Adventure Magazine Cover — page 71: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

The Web of the Sun of the aged. Her very repulsiveness touched Lassiter. He took the creature by the arms. “Hush, Prymoxl. You can’t believe Birdsong! There is nothing to what he tells you—” he began, guiding her gently back in the direction she came. “‘But—but it must be true,” gabbled the crone, ‘‘to strike fire——”’ “Why, dear Prymoxl, what has fire to do with your ntfas?” “I— Itisa miracle, setor—” ‘‘Well, a miracle—Good Lord, whav’s a miracle? Something you don’t under- stand— How can one thing you don’t understand prove something else you don’t understand? Don’t you see, Prymoxl, it isn’t proof at all; it is irrational; it is proving the unknown by the unknown! It is the blind leading the blind and they shall all fall into the ditch!” Lassiter delivered all this in great heat. For a moment or two the old hag seemed to listen, but within a dozen words she lost the connection of what the promoter was saying, and started swaying first on Lassiter and then on her daughter, wailing again— “My nifas! All my pretty m1#as—dead— all—all—dead : ‘ She flung up her arms and broke into another paroxysm of weeping. She slumped down on the hot tufa pavement, and stared up at the sun with her desolate, contorted face. She would have beat her head against the stones, had not Tilita and Lassiter lifted her bodily and moved on homeward. “For God’s sake, Prymoxl!”’ panted Las- siter under his burden. “Your ‘old eyes deceived you! Birdsong can’t strike fire! He—_—”’ “But I tell you, I.saw him!’ choked the grimalkin. ‘It snapped, and sputtered and burned ee Suddenly it dawned upon Lassiter what Birdsong had done. “Why, that was a match!’ he cried. ‘‘Anybody can do that! Here! Here!’’ He shook her to gain her attention. ‘That was a match, Prymoxl, no trick at all—none at i The old hag looked at him and straight- ened her face somewhat. “Can you do it?” she shivered. “Sure, sure!” And he searched his pockets. Then he remembered he had given Birdsong the last lucifer he possessed. “T baven’t one right here,” he said easily. 61 “But come with me to the paddlewood, I'll show you. His confidence was so obvious that the old baggage got weakly to her feet, and the trio crept forward in order that Lassiter might duplicate Birdsong’s miracle and restore Prymoxl’s babies to the sun. A certain gall-like humor seeped into the situation for the Stendill agent. Apparently he was being forced into the réle of defender of the faith, champion of the Sutin. The three walked very slowly, for Prymoxl was spent. On the way, they saw Nunes’ bolsa lying on the beach with its top completed. Lassiter left Prymoxl at her baobab and went on alone to his paddlewood for the matches. The old crone was very doubtful. ‘You are sure you can do it?” “Oh, yes, I’ll butt miracle against mira- cle!”’ She clung to his hands. ‘““Be sure and come back, sefior, and show me this very night. I shall not sleep, primo, until you come back and show me.” Tilita followed him outside the door and kissed him with a curious wistfulness. “Can you really strike fire out of a tree, dear primo?” she asked trembling. “Can I strike a match?” Lassiter began to laugh. Tilita peered into his eyes, and kissed him again, slowly, doubtfully. DEEP in the afternoon, Lassiter reached the paddlewood just in time to see Birdsong start north through the jungle. On his back were a pack of Bibles and the promoter knew that his pockets were full of the wonder-working matches. And to what unfortunate and cruel use he would put the matches! A realization of the unhappiness Birdsong would cause moved the promoter to shout at his man. The colporteur turned around and saw who it was. “What is it, Mr. Lassiter?” he inquired briefly. ‘I’m in a hurry.” The significance of the change from ‘‘brother” to ‘‘mister’”? was not lost on the promoter. “I just wanted a moment, Birdsong.” “Well, that’s all I can give you; my brothers are in trouble.” The promoter walked up and saw a band- age around the Arkansan’ s head. It shocked the agent. © ‘You haven’t been fighting?” Comic soOoks. Conn